Europe. In Miniature.

The moment I walked in to Bruxelles' Mini-Europe, I was offerred the hand of a man in a strange animal costume. Sure, this animal is well known continent-wide as the friendly, reassuring mascot of the burgeoning, expanding European Union. But can anybody, somebody, please tell me what on Earth it is actually supposed to be?



The man - or the animal, depending on how far you want to take it - shook my hand, but instead of politely letting go and allowing me to walk on, he dragged my hand to the local foliage to force me into a photographic pose. Another strange young man stood with a camera at the ready, and abruptly captured an image of me and the man/beast before I had a chance to run. I was told that I could pick up the photo at the end of my visit. I was not told that collecting the photo would attract a €6 charge, on top of the (discounted) €11.20 charge to get into Mini-Europe in the first place. And all this just to see well-moulded miniature models of European cities in the middle of Bruparck, a Belgian theme park also including a massive cinema and Oceade, the distinctly unimpressive waterslide.

I was told to visit Mini-Europe by Pat, the middle-aged Irish hotelier who sat beside me on the train from München to Bruxelles. He owns a three-star hotel in Köln, and is married to a woman who comes from the family responsible for Eau de Cologne. He also told me to try rucola while in Germany, which will be my dinner for tomorrow.

Which brings me to tonight - I am writing this post from the Easy Internet Cafe in Berlin, which will house me for the next 30 hours or so. Would you believe that the only Internet Café on the Kurfürsterdamm is, in fact, above a Dunkin' Donuts?

In case you're wondering, I didn't pay my extra €6 for the photo. I took my camera and took a photo of the photo, before a man whisked the original photo away from my grasp.